Page 3 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Max's grin widened. "Why not both?"

I made a noise of protest. "Hard pass.”

"Aw, come on, nerd," Max said, elbowing me like we were pals. We weren't. "It's all in good fun."

"Your definition of fun is broken," I muttered, but no one was listening.

I should've just stayed on the balcony. I should've let them go play their ridiculous game while I enjoyed the solitude of a demon-infested mansion in peace. But then Joy grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the game setup like a particularly stubborn bounty hunter.

"You're playing," she declared.

"I'm really not."

"You really are."

Shun, the traitor, was already setting up with Max, while the rest of the partygoers started gathering in his wake. The fear pong table was long and polished, set up much like classic beer pong but with enchanted cups that flickered with eerie lights. Besides it floated a sheet of parchment, glowing with every new dare inscribed upon it in shimmering ink.

A vampire girl cracked her knuckles. "Rules are simple," she said. "You sink a shot, the other team picks a dare. If they refuse, they're out."

I sighed. "You people have no sense of self-preservation."

Joy tossed me a ball. "That's the spirit."

I missed on my first throw.

Joy did not. She nailed the first cup perfectly, and a line of shimmering words appeared in the air:

DARE: SPEND 30 SECONDS IN THE CURSED CLOSET.

Max whistled. “Brutal.”

The closet in question was just across the room—a dark wooden thing with a slightly ajar door that breathed shadows.

Joy shrugged. “Fine.”

She walked over and stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

A hush fell over the group.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

At twenty-five, the closet rattled.

At thirty, Joy strolled out, completely unfazed. “Lame,” she said, brushing off her pants. “Next round.”

I turned to Shun. "Why are we friends with her?"

"She's entertaining."

Meaning of entertaining: Super enthusiastic, super crazy, worst choice maker, and did I say super super crazy?

Speaking from experience.

The game went on and on, each round more and more ridiculous. Max had to let a siren whisper in his ear for a full minute—he walked away dazed and a little lovestruck. Shun got dared to arm-wrestle a werewolf—she lost in an instant. Joy had to drink a mystery potion that turned her hair neon pink for the next hour.

And then, of course, it was my turn again.

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